


the start of something new

by vattenskalle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Drinking Games, High School Musical - Freeform, M/M, eleanor being a total peeta fangirl, long conversations about crisps, louis referring to harry as curly, shameless flirting, there is no one direction okay but they are still cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vattenskalle/pseuds/vattenskalle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t. You’ll regret it,” a voice interrupts Louis’ train of drunken thoughts, and he snaps his head up. He’s alone in the shop, apart from the young boy by the register who he swears wasn’t there when he walked in. Which, <i>oh</i>. Curls. Okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the start of something new

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a True Story. Not from my life though, because nothing remotely interesting ever happens to me. Also I am so sorry for the long conversations about crisps. I guess I’m hungry?
> 
> I tried really hard to make it all sound British, but Google can only take you so far. I’m Swedish, and I had enough trouble with writing “crisps” instead of “chips”. And yeah, we do actually have cheeseburger crisps in this country. Don’t ask me why.
> 
> This turned out a whole lot longer than I had planned. It’s my first try at writing something in the 1D fandom and I had a lot of fun doing it.
> 
> The title is from _High School Musical._ I regret nothing.

Louis is drunk the first time they meet.

Like, _really_ drunk.

It’s around one o’clock on a Saturday night, which (technically) makes it Sunday, but Louis has yet to go to bed, so there’s that. Still Saturday.

Louis read once on Wikipedia that the human body consists of 55-75 percent water. He is however quite certain that his body is currently made out of _at least_ 60 percent tequila. This is all thanks to Niall’s brilliant “Margarita Evening” idea. Really, Niall had always claimed to make a mean margarita, and if he by “mean” meant that you’d get a mean headache the next morning, then yes, correct.

The drinks had become stronger and stronger for each new glass, and they had stopped counting after the third one. At one point they had run out of lime juice and in lack of other ideas, just started taking tequila shots. With salt, but without lemons, because Niall’s kitchen is about as well-stocked as Louis’. (Not at all, that means.)

Well, one thing led to another and now here he is, eyeing the shelf of crisps in a small night-open corner shop, trying to figure out which kind his drunken state will like and which kind his hungover self will be able to eat tomorrow. He is _not_ leaving the flat for anything tomorrow, that’s for sure.

“Don’t. You’ll regret it,” a voice interrupts Louis’ train of drunken thoughts, and he snaps his head up. He’s alone in the shop, apart from the young boy by the register who he swears wasn’t there when he walked in. Which, _oh_. Curls. Okay.

“You’re eyeing up the cheeseburger ones, I can tell.”

Louis stares at him. “Are you psychic?”

“No,” the corner of Curly’s mouth tilts upward, “but you’re drunk and the nearest McDonald’s is about twenty minutes from here. So.” He shrugs.

“Nice deduction skills, Sherlock.” Thank God drunk!Louis still has his wits about him.

Curly grins.

Dimples.

 _Okay._ Louis blinks.

“Thanks. Anyway, they might seem like a good idea now, but then you eat them. Ugh. There’s a reason they’re limited edition.”

Louis snorts. “You’re the worst shop person I’ve ever met.”

_“Shop person?”_

“Shut up. Drunk, remember?” Louis points to himself. He might slur a bit, but. Tequila. Yes. So. Whatever.

“Hard to miss,” Curly says.

“Whatever.” He waves his hand in the air. “As a _shop person_ , shouldn’t you be trying to get people to buy stuff instead of telling them off?”

Curly ponders this for a few seconds, and then shrugs his shoulders. “I suppose. But I’m a nice person. I can’t let customers want to remove their taste buds.”

“Good point.” Louis snatches two bags (salt and vinegar, and cheese and onion. Playing it safe.) and brings them over to Curly by the register. He’s pretty up close, all green eyes and dark curls and long limbs. The fluorescent lights are blinding Louis a bit, and makes Curly’s skin look pale. He still looks good though.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” Louis grabs a bottle of water. “For my friend.” He points out the window, to where Niall is sitting on the ground outside the shop.

“Rough night?”

“You could say that. Turns out you _can_ out-drink an Irishman, if you stick to tequila and he hasn’t eaten more than a bowl of cereal the last twenty-four hours.”

Curly frowns. “You’re a bad friend.”

“No, I’m not!” Louis gasps. This boy sure has some nerve. “I’m buying crisps now, aren’t I?”

“You’re gonna eat them all yourself, aren’t you?”

“…maybe. You can’t prove anything though.”

They grin at each other, and Louis thinks that this is nice. He’s making small talk with a cute boy who doesn’t seem to mind that he’s drunk (and a bit silly). Curly’s eyes flicker to somewhere above and behind Louis’ head, and he turns slightly to see what’s caught the younger boy’s attention.

There’s a small TV installed high up on the other wall. Louis would suspect a CCTV camera, but the screen shows Brad Pitt speaking in broken Italian.

“ _Inglorious Basterds_ ,” Curly says.

“I know, it’s sick. I saw it in cinema.” He saw it twice actually, the second time for Brad Pitt. Not that Curly needs to know that. “Twice. Once for Brad Pitt.” Oh shit.

“You should hurry home and catch the rest of it then. Also I think your friend might be asleep.”

Louis’ eyes dart out the window, where Niall is half-lying on the pavement. “Oh shit. I’m usually a good friend, I swear!”

Curly laughs, a deep laughter that Louis could get used to hearing on a daily basis. “I’ll take your word for it. Good night, and get home safe.”

“Thanks.” So _polite_. Honestly, what is this? “G’night.”

Out on the street again, Louis pulls Niall up off the ground. “Alright you drunken shit, let’s go home.”

“I love you, Lou,” Niall slurs.

“I know you do, kiddo. Here, drink some water.”

It’s only when they’re almost home that Louis realizes that he never got Curly’s name. And well, that’s that then.

***

Only, it’s not.

A little over two weeks later, Louis is walking home with Eleanor from the cinema when they pass the store. He glances inside, mostly on chance, and his eyes catch a mop of dark brown curls. He doesn’t remember much of the conversation with Cute Shop Person-Boy (because, well, _tequila_ ), only that there were dimples and Louis made him laugh. And also called him a “shop person”. So yeah, just a bit embarrassing. Which is why he hasn’t gone back yet.

Eleanor feels him hesitating, and stops in the middle of her analysis on why Team Peeta is the only logical ship, based on something she read on tumblr. (Louis doesn’t really care either way, but he _might_ have wanked over Josh Hutcherson a few times, so what, he likes a pair of nice, strong arms. Who doesn’t?)

They enter the shop without being noticed, as Curly is busy helping another customer. Eleanor doesn’t even think twice before snatching a bag of crisps (the cheeseburger ones are nowhere to be seen) and walks over to the register. Louis stands awkwardly behind her, not sure if Curly will recognize him or not.

He didn’t need to worry, as the boy’s face nearly splits in half from how big he’s grinning.

“Hey, you’re sober this time!”

Eleanor turns to shoot a surprised look at Louis, but he ignores her. Time for _that_ inquisition squad later. He has a boy to woo now.

“How’s it going, Sherlock? I see the Un-Edible Crisps From Hell are gone, what happened?”

“I had nothing to do with that,” Curly nearly stumbles over his words from how fast he’s speaking. He raises his hands in the air to show how innocent he is, and Louis doesn’t miss how _big_ his hands are. _Nice._ He’s wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and fastened with safety pins.

Curly has nice, strong arms.

Damn it all to Hell, Louis thinks.

“Riiiiight…”

Eleanor coughs just then, which. Oh. There are others here too.

While Eleanor pays for her crisps, Louis turns to look at the TV on the opposite wall. It’s showing teenagers singing in a kitchen, and Louis wants to stab himself in the eye.

“ _High School Musical 2_. They –“

“I know,” he blurts out. Eleanor snorts.

“Louis’ celebrity crush is Zac Efron,” she states. Louis hates his friends. All of them. Forever.

Curly grins. He does that a lot, Louis’ noticed, but then again so should anyone blessed with those dimples. “Really? Well, he’s looking really fit these days. Good for you. I used to fancy Jesse McCartney but he has really let himself go.”

“He also knows all the songs backwards.”

Louis sighs. “That is unfortunately not true. But I do know a great _High School Musical_ drinking game which has a 100 percent guaranteed drunken-ness.”

“Sounds fascinating.”

“It is. Scout’s honour.” Louis even does a little salute, which he’s not sure if scouts do (he has never been a scout, even if Liam did try many times), but it makes Curly smile so, yeah.

“You’ll have to teach me sometime. Outside my work, that is.”

“I– Yeah.” Louis hopes he’s not blushing from the intense stare Curly gives him.

Finally, Eleanor rolls her eyes and ends the awkward conversation. “Can we go home now? I need to update my blog about the film.”

“Oh, which one have you seen?” Curly looks really interested. Bless him.

“ _Catching Fire_.” Louis leans closer and stage-whispers, “Watch your mouth, she’s Team Peeta.”

Curly shrugs, like he’s saying of course. “Of course. What other team is there? In every universe, Peeniss would’ve happened.”

“Exactly! See, Lou, this guy gets it!” Eleanor claps her hands. “Now let’s go.”

“Bye, Louis,” Curly says and turns to help the little kid who’s trying to reach a soda on one of the top shelves. Louis nods and follows Eleanor out on the street. They only make it a few steps before she speaks up.

“So… Who’s he?”

Louis shrugs and digs his hands into the pockets of his jeans, because November is _cold_. “Dunno. Met him there on Niall’s Margarita Evening. I bought crisps.”

“Oh. You looked cosy. He’s cute.” Eleanor smiles. “What’s his name?”

Louis stops mid-step, eyes wide. He slaps his face and groans.

“Fuck. I don’t know.”

Eleanor stares at him in disbelief before she starts laughing. “Oh dear, your face. Priceless. You fancy him so badly!”

“Shut up.”

“No, no, it’s cute! Really.”

She giggles the rest of the way home, and Louis retaliates by dumping the crisps over her head. Curls and dimples are _not_ a laughing matter.

***

Louis likes to think he’s a smooth guy. He’s good at chatting people up. He’s had his fair share of boyfriends and hook-ups, and it has never been a big deal to him. Some people (mainly Zayn) have even called him a shameless flirt (but then again Zayn didn’t really mind when it was _his_ throat that Louis was sticking his tongue down).

But it seems as if Louis has found his kryptonite. Apparently it’s cute boys with dimples who fancy Jesse McCartney. And Louis looks _nothing_ like Jesse McCartney.

But still, here he is. Again. Sober. And alone. And really _really_ nervous.

The shop is empty, and Curly is sitting behind the counter, reading a magazine. He looks up as soon as the door closes behind Louis, and grins.

“Louis! Great to see you!”

Louis can’t help but smile at how enthusiastic Curly seems at seeing him. It has been nearly three weeks since he stopped by with Eleanor, Curly could easily have found someone else to flirt with during that time. (At least Louis likes to think they’re flirting. That’s what he’s trying to do anyway.)

“Do you ever get a day off?”

“Sometimes. But I like being here. I mean, I like talking to people.”

“Oh, is there no one to _talk to_ when you’re home?” Louis prays he’s being smooth. However, it had sounded better in his head.

If Curly notices his obvious attempt at finding out his relationship status, he doesn’t show. “Nah, I’m all alone. Apart from Dorothy, of course. But she doesn’t talk.”

Louis frowns, confused. “Why? Is she a mute?”

“No,” Curly laughs. “She’s a cat.”

“Oh. Well. Good. What are you reading?” Curly flips the pages and shows Louis the cover. “ _Tiger Beat_? Does it have any good Jesse McCartney gossip?”

Curly whacks him over the head with the magazine. “No. But it does have a _Hunger Games_ special. You should buy it for your girlfriend?”

Louis could be wrong, but he is quite certain there is a question mark at the end of Curly’s sentence. _Interesting._ He could have a bit fun with this, stringing Curly along and pretending to be straight. However, the thought of him and Eleanor in a relationship is too funny and disturbing, so he ends up giggling like a madman. Curly looks confused. “What? What’d I do?”

“Nothing, honestly. But she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t… do girlfriends.”

“ _Oh_.” Curly brightens up. “Good to know. You could buy it for yourself then? There are some nice pictures in here.”

“I’ll think about it.” Louis wonders if he should take a walk around the shop, if he should at least pretend like he’s planning on buying something. But it’s nice here. Flirting is nice. _Curly_ is nice. “You’re not watching any films today?”

“No, there isn’t anything good on TV. I did watch ‘ _Escape to the Country_ ’ earlier, but that’s about as interesting as my day has been.”

“Seems fascinating. You should get a DVD player installed as well.”

Curly grins. “Yeah? I’ve been thinking about it actually! But I don’t make enough money to afford one, and I don’t think the owner would like it if I spent all my working hours re-watching my _Harry Potter_ collection.”

“Maybe not.” Louis looks down at the magazine in the boy’s (big) hands, and his eye catches a tattoo he hasn’t noticed before. “’I can’t change’?” he reads. “What does that mean?”

Curly looks down at his wrist. “It means I can’t change. Like, I am who I am.”

“Wow, that’s deep, man,” Louis deadpans. “Almost as deep as your voice.” Curly laughs.

“That’s me.”

“Got any more?”

“A few.” Curly rolls up the sleeve of his t-shirt and reveals a star, three nails, a home-made looking “hi!” and –

“Is that a coat hanger?”

“Yeah. It’s a personal favourite of mine.”

Louis shakes his head. “You are so weird.”

“You like it.” Curly smiles like it’s nothing, and Louis doesn’t know how to respond to that statement. Because, yeah. He does.

Silence falls over the shop, and Curly starts flipping through his magazine again. Louis coughs a little. To clear his throat. Or something.

“Well, I… I should probably head home, you know? Things to see, people to do.”

Curly barks out a laughter, slapping his hands over his mouth. Louis scrunches his face up, hoping he’s not blushing. “God, sorry, that came out wrong.”

“So you don’t have someone to ‘do’ at home then?”

“Sadly not, no. Anyway, I’ll see you around?”

Curly smiles. “You know where to find me.”

“I do.”

They stare at each other for a moment longer, not saying anything. Curly is still smiling and biting his lower lip, which. Louis doesn’t know how to respond to that. (He’s not going home to wank over it. Absolutely not.) He leaves the store quickly, but when the door closes he can’t help but feel like he’s forgotten something. And then it hits him.

He spins around on the spot and yanks the door open. Curly blinks at him, surprised. “Yeah?”

“What’s… what’s your name?”

Curly looks confused.

“Look, I can’t go around referring to you as Cute Curly-Haired Shop Person-Boy any longer, so please. I need a name.”

“You think I’m cute.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Curly smiles so bright it’s like looking into the sun. Louis rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head, Curly.”

“Can’t promise you anything. Although I was kinda hoping you weren’t here for my crisps this time.”

“You’re getting cocky. Name?”

Curly beckons him over with a finger, and Louis walks up to the counter. “I know,” Curly bends forward and his breath ghosts over Louis’ ear, “M’name is Harry. And I can get _really_ cock-y, if you want.”

Louis doesn’t know whether to laugh at the bad pun or get turned on by what the boy is referring to, so he does both. “Oh my God, what _are_ you?”

“I’m a Cute Shop Person, you said so yourself,” Curly – no, Harry – smiles. Louis wants to poke his dimple. “And anyway, you’re the one walking out of a store without getting anything. Loser.”

Louis shrugs. “Well, I _am_ walking out of here with your name. I count that as a win.” Harry laughs.

“Yeah. Would you like my phone number to go with it?”

***

The fourth time they meet is in Louis’ flat, and they get drunk to his and Zayn’s High School Musical Drinking Game (Zayn always pronounces it in Capital Letters).

Like, _really_ drunk.

(And the next morning, Harry is still there and they make breakfast that neither of them can stomach, and they kiss each other’s hangovers away, and when Harry leaves it’s with a promise of calling later.

Which turns out to be approximately three minutes later.

And then Louis stops counting the moments that they spend together.)

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants to read what Eleanor found on tumblr you can find it [here.](http://raptorific.tumblr.com/post/12867140593/analysis-of-the-love-triangle-in-the-hunger-games)
> 
> For you people of legal drinking age, The High School Musical Drinking Game goes something like this:
> 
> Take a drink whenever  
> \- someone says “Wildcats!”  
> \- someone says “What team?”  
> \- someone says “We’re all in this together”  
> \- Ryan has a new hat  
> \- someone says “spring musical”  
> \- Troy and Gabriella have a MOMENT  
> \- a mobile phone is ringing
> 
> 100 % drunken-ness guaranteed. Have fun, kids! Also, thank you for reading!
> 
> (I’m [radiostyrd](http://radiostyrd.tumblr.com) @ tumblr if someone wants to come and say hi)


End file.
